


To Share a Fire Moon

by KaramelKat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death Fix, F/M, Happy Ending, Post Hobbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaramelKat/pseuds/KaramelKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili dies.  Tauriel goes in search of a Fire Moon every year to share a precious memory with her dead beloved.  Or is he?  This is an AU Fix-it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Share a Fire Moon

To Share a Fire Moon 

_I saw a fire moon once. It rose over the pass at Dunland. Huge! Red and gold it was, it filled the sky. We took the Greenway south keeping the mountain to our left and then it appeared. This huge fire moon lighting our path. I wish I could show you…_

He died before he could show her. Tauriel’s memory of that moment never faded with time as some memories are wont to do. She thought of it often, clinging to that lonely, precious memory when others had already been forgotten; her dwarf prince, his face pressed against the bars of the dungeon door as he spoke animatedly to her. 

Five years after Kíli’s passing into the next world, she traveled to Dunland. Remembering his tale, including the season in which he had seen the moon, she stayed on the Greenway path during the late summer in hopes of seeing that rare fire moon. Every night she had been denied the sight until she reluctantly left the region with bitter disappointment.

That didn’t stop her from returning year after year, summer after summer, all to catch a memory as elusive as the one who shared his with her. 

Forty years passed. She had all the time and patience of any immortal elf. Certainly more time than she knew what to do with since her banishment from King Thranduil’s kingdom. She had travelled Middle Earth from one end to the other - The Sea of Rhun, Rohan, Enedwaith, Ered Luin, and even several trips to the Shire to visit one very clever hobbit that snuck thirteen dwarves out of her charge.

It was now mid-August; Tauriel making her annual trip faithfully once more. She had purposely signed on as one of three guards for a caravan of merchants that had traveled from Harlindon. There had been a total of twenty, ware-laden wagons and Tauriel was glad to have left them safely in Eastfold not a fortnight past. Twenty wagons and only three guards were asking for trouble in Tauriel’s opinion. Of course, they did not pay her for her opinions.

Three days before, she had passed Angren (Isen River) at the Gap of Rohan traveling northwest at a leisurely pace. Tauriel followed parallel to the North-South Road, but stayed off the road itself to avoid the higher traffic. Not many wandered off that path. The plains of Dunland were dismal at best during the day. The sunbaked, dry, brown plains offered little in the way of cover, mostly dry shrubs and stubby weeds. 

Not that she was here to see the daytime sights. It was the night sky that interested her most.

She made camp and unsaddled her black roan, Orthor. “Beast,” Tauriel told him fondly as she ran her fingers through his dark mane. He lipped at her forearm in response. She had bought the stallion four winters before in Gondor. He had been a high spirited beast, stamping and chomping at his stall; trouble to the vendor who sold him. She had been warned that the stallion did not like to be corralled and had a bad temper.

That suited Tauriel just fine. She did not like to be tied down either. The horse seemed to enjoy wandering the world as much as she did, and the two got on fine, once he realized she was a kindred spirit. Tauriel set him loose to graze on what brush there was available. She had not tethered him once, in the four years she had him. 

The stars were beginning to appear in the night sky as her dinner of prairie hen roast on a spit, over a small fire. She stared into the fire sightlessly, her thoughts on the moon that would rise that night. It would be a full moon and those held the most promise to be a fire moon as Kíli described. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but her pulse quickened in expectation despite her mind telling it otherwise.

Grease sizzled as it dripped from the hen into her fire. Her food was nearly cooked and Tauriel’s stomach rumbled in anticipation of her dinner. She reached to turn the spit and froze, her hand inches from the wood.

A sound…

No. Lack of sound. From beyond the campfire. Tauriel’s hearing sharpened as she focused on listening. Over the familiar pop and crackle of her burning logs, the steady chirping of crickets around the camp had ceased. She could hear Orthor chewing off in the distance, so whatever had caused the insects to desist was not from his direction. She tilted her head, listening eastward. 

There was a subtle shift of sound from that direction. Someone was crouched and had shifted to relieve their legs. Tauriel’s hand changed targets, moving away from the spit to her bow and quiver. Gwathuia - The Dundelings in Westron - were the known inhabitants of Dunland. They were not a race of men to be trifled with. Their loyalties belonged only to themselves or whoever had enough coin to buy their treachery. Tauriel’s past experiences with the men of the hills kept her wary and guarded in their presence.

Her keen gaze moved past the firelight into the shadows as she aimed her bow in that direction. Thirty yards beyond the ring of light, she spotted the figure hunched down in the brush. She notched her arrow, pulling the string taught to her cheek. Without standing she called out, “I know you’re there. I have you in my line of sight. Why do you spy upon me?”

She heard the creak of leather as the figure stood up, her bow keeping its deadly aim. She would guess him a male, judging him to be around six feet tall and broad of shoulder. Within seconds he strode into the firelight, giving her full visage of him. His head was hooded with a dark blue mantle, his mail and leathers suggesting him to be a warrior. It wasn’t until she spied the insignia of Rohan pinned to his cloak that she relaxed her bow. Fractionally.

“My apologies Milady. I do not come to spy on you. I was merely curious who camped out here, so far from the main road. I would not have thought it to be a lady alone, by herself, especially an elf.”

“Who says I am alone?” 

“Aren’t you?”

“My bow and daggers are very pleasant company to me.”

He chuckled, pushing back his hood.

Tauriel’s heart stopped.

Kíli.

His thin, angular face had the same scruffy stubble on a rounded chin. Achingly familiar to her, his smile revealed a single dimple upon his left cheek. But it was his eyes that stole her breath; her heart fluttering madly in her chest. Kíli’s eyes. Mischievous, spirited brown eyes that glinted with mirth at her from beneath his dark, black brows.

No. Not Kíli. 

Even as her traitorous heart begged to differ, her eyes were visually assessing the differences to her brain. This was a man, not a dwarf. He was taller than she by a few inches. Although he had breadth to his chest as a dwarf does, his figure was leaner towards the hips. This man’s nose was not as long, and slightly thinner than Kíli’s had been. Kíli’s chestnut brown hair had been thick, a little wavy and past his shoulders. The man before Tauriel had inky black, curly hair that fell at its shortest, on his cheekbone. Towards the back his curls brushed his collar.

Not Kíli.

He was saying something she realized, not having heard him over the deceitful stutters of her heart.

“What?” She hoped he did not see the trembling she felt in her hand upon the bow.

He grinned and she internally cursed both her lack of awareness, as well as that dimple that prompted further distraction if she allowed it. Tauriel forced herself to focus, still reeling from the shock of seeing her dead beloved’s face after so long.

“I said they cannot be that good of company if they do not provide amiable conversation.” 

“And I suppose you think you could?” Tauriel adopted an arrogant tone in her question, wanting to put him off. “They may not speak, but my weapons know how to sing a death tune for those deserving of it.”

He laughed, a full rich, sound that set off duplicitous flutters in her stomach. “You jest well my lady elf.”

She wasn’t jesting, but did not correct his thinking. Let him underestimate her.

“In all honesty, I could use the company. I have been weeks in the mountains with no decent wit to amuse me.” he winked at her, no doubt intending to be flirtatious. Tauriel’s pace raced treacherously and she frowned because of it.

“Please,” he mistook her scowl to be meant for him. “I do mean you no harm,” he brandished his hands wide. “Just dinner and some company. You can search me for weapons if it makes you feel better.”

_Aren’t you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers._

Tauriel considered the man carefully. She should say no. He posed no danger to her person. He did not have weapons that she could see, but as a rider of Rohan he would have them at his own camp. A long minute passed as she weighed the options. He grew nervous under her steady stare, his body tensing.

She lowered her bow. He relaxed. “As it please you.” Tauriel kept her tone sharp to discourage him.

“Excellent!” He darted off into the dark, his enthusiasm tugging at her bruised and battered heart.

Tauriel wasn’t sure she didn’t regret her decision. Though he appeared harmless, the man posed a great danger to her than he could possibly dream of. Just the sight of him was digging up feelings she buried long ago. She had willed them deep into her heart, determined to never feel the pain of losing a loved one again.

The hen was finished by the time he returned. She had split the body in half, already feasting on her portion. Let him think her rude for serving herself without him. She told herself she didn’t care what he thought. 

“How did an elf come to be out here so far away from her kin?” He dropped a watering skin and produced a small satchel from under his raiment. He sat across the fire from her and opened the satchel pulling out a wrapped cloth. Unfolding it he revealed summer berries, still plump and juicy. “I picked these just this morning up on the mountain.”

Tauriel nodded her head at his offering and gestured her hand at his half of the hen. “How did a rider of Rohan come to be so far from his own company?”

“Fair enough,” Kíli’s doppelganger grinned and dug into his dinner. As they ate, he spoke of his duties scouting the mountains for signs of the Dundeling encampments. Tauriel listened as he shared news of Mordor’s increasing numbers and allies. Sauron’s influence had root in Dunland, sowing discord between the east and west.

She remembered warning Thranduil long ago that the evil would spread to other lands. And here was proof of it. Tauriel shook herself as other memories tried to stir within her. She remembered a similar conversation with Legolas in which she had boldly and vehemently stated her idealistic wish to fight against the darkness. Her foolish words echoed hollowly in her brain.

_Tell me melon, when did we let evil become stronger than us?_

“So,” Kíli’s dead ringer finished his hen, flicking the bones into the fire to burn. “That is how I ended up here in your fair company.” He gave her that devilish smile that threatened to melt the ice wall she tried to keep between them. “Perhaps now you shall share your secrets with me Lady Elf? Shall we start with your name? I am Killigan, son of Thornigan from West Enment.”  
Tauriel stared, thunderstruck at him.

“What? Have I got something in my beard?” Killigan began rubbing his hands over his scruff, searching for an offending food item.

She didn’t believe in reincarnation. Tauriel knew that the Halls of Mandos is where elves went to wait until the end of time and men went to await a different fate. The dwarves believed that Mahal called them to the Hall, to wait for reincarnation. Rebirth into a new body. It is how Durin I came to be called Durin the Deathless. Reborn, many times over.

Kíli was descended from the line of Durin.

She choked upon the thought. Surely it couldn’t be…

Killigan was looking at her expectantly, turning his head from side to side so that she could examine his beard. She shook her head. “No, no you do not.” Tauriel was alarmed to hear the tremble in her voice when she finally found it.

“Oh good. It’s a ruddy mess to comb out when food gets stuck.” He had not yet noticed her breakdown for which she was grateful. Tauriel took a few calming breaths to get her pulse under control. It was rushing fast enough to make her feel lightheaded.

“So,” Killigan turned his overly familiar, eager and earnest brown eyes upon her. “You were about to tell me your name?”

“Tauriel.”

“Well met Lady Tauriel.”

He didn’t show any reaction to her name, sending a wave of disappointment through her. What had she expected? He looked like Kíli. His name was too coincidental to be mere chance. If he was Kíli reborn, would he not recognize her?

“Just Tauriel. I am not a high born elf.” She never liked it when anyone tried to attach upon her, honors and airs that did not belong to her.

“Tauriel,” Killigan tested it out, his voice sending tremors down her spine. His voice had a soft lilting accent she had noticed, stressing the T sound more than Kíli ever had. 

Curiosity was burning through her. Tauriel’s logic, the one that tried to reason this was not Kíli. was flying out the window in the face of a hope that flooded through her entire being. It was uplifting and terrifying, feeling things that had long ago been hidden. Her body was singing with certainty that the man before her was her dwarf prince, brought back to life, albeit in a different race. 

_What if you’re wrong? What if it’s just coincidence?_

_What if you’re not?_

Tauriel took a deep breath. She had to know.

“I come here every year Killigan.” Her heart leapt, just saying his name out loud. “Every summer for forty years I have looked to the sky here. I seek a fire moon.”

His brows drew together thoughtfully. “A fire moon?”

“Yes. A full moon painted red and gold. I was told long ago, by _Melamin_ , that one had been seen here. I come every summer in search of it.”

“Forty years? _Bema!_ I’m just turned thirty-one myself and you’ve come here forty summers?” He seemed awed and impressed.

“That is not so long in the life of an elf,” she reminded him. And yet as she thought upon it, it seemed a very long time indeed without her dwarf prince.

“Forty years...” Killigan breathed the number again. “You must have seen hundreds of fire moons during that time!”

Tauriel shook her head. “Not one.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Killigan stood up, wiping his hands on his braces. Even his manners were reminding her of Kíli. Rather, the lack of them.

She reared back when he made his way around the fire, coming to sit down next to her. He may potentially be Kíli’s reincarnation, but he was still unknown to her and she blurted out, “What are you doing?”

“The moon will be coming up from the east?” Killigan pointed at the shadow of the mountains in the distance. Tauriel nodded. “I’ll help you watch for it.” He beamed at her, before casually leaning back on his hands, head tilted to watch the sky.

Tauriel was tense, her body pulled tauter than a ready bowstring. She drew her knees up to her chest, circling her arms around them, turning her face towards the sky too. Not that it did any good. She was very aware of Killigan; his warmth, his scent - did she detect pipe-weed or was it her imagination? His very presence pulled upon her memory of Kíli. 

Her fingers tingled as she remembered that time long ago, in Bard’s house, when Kíli had asked her if she could love him. He’d reached his hand out towards her and she took it. Their fingers had laced together. It had been so innocent and sweet.

At the lake, their hands had touched again as he placed his rune stone in her hands. His earnest confession had swayed her heart and she regretted not leaving with Kíli that afternoon. If she had made the right decision, following her heart instead of her duty, perhaps she could have saved him.

And there was her final memory. Of holding Kíli’s lifeless hand within her own. She had returned his rune stone to him, squeezing his hand, knowing there would be no responding in kind. His death hurt. His death hurt her more than anything in Middle Earth ever could.

_Because it was real._

Thranduil’s words resounded in her head. It had been real. Brief, bittersweet and so very real. 

“You know it’s funny you should speak of fire moons..”

Tauriel jumped, Killigan’s voice startling her out of her thoughts. She’d gotten lost in the memory of Kíli and had dropped her guard towards the man. “Funny?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Yes. Funny.” He glanced at her and then back to the sky. “When I was younger I used to dream about fire moons.”

“You did?” Tauriel’s pulse raced once more, her heart pounding at his admission. She stared hard at Killigan, seeking the truth somewhere in his face. 

“Yeah, strange isn’t it?” He seemed blissfully ignorant of all the internal turmoil he had been causing her since appearing at her camp. He glanced sideways to her, from beneath dark lashes.

Or was he?

Tauriel knew that sly look. Kíli had offered it to her more than once in the dungeons of the Woodland Realm. Usually it was given right before he spoke a raunchy innuendo; his attempts to make her blush. Cheeky, impertinent dwarf.

Tauriel could be sly too.

“Very strange.” She agreed, keeping her voice calm, belying the temper that was building underneath. “You know what is also strange?” She unwound her arms from around her knees.

“What?”

“Dwarves. Hairy as a long horned ox and just about as ugly!”

He gaped at her and she continued before he could get a word in. “Cunning, unscrupulous, and sneaky to boot! Deceitful, obstinate, annoying-”

_“Tauriel!”_

_“Kíli!”_

She leapt to her feet glaring down upon him. He stood just as fast and it felt strange to her to have to look up into his eyes.

“You knew?”

“You’re a terrible fraud!”

“No,” Kíli shook his head. “I’m not fraud. I’m me. Just a different me.” He patted his chest and glanced down. “Well, a wee bit taller me.”

Tauriel stared at Killigan - no Kíli - being Kíli. It was enough to set her head reeling, her anger forgotten. “How?”

And he told her. As she had suspected, he had indeed gone to the Hall of Mandos. He’d been offered the chance to come back after many years waiting. Like Durin the Deathless, Kíli had returned.

“But, how did you become a man instead of a dwarf?”

“I asked for it. I thought it’d be fun to be taller than you in this life.”

His answer both amused and exasperated her. It was definitely Kíli.

He took a step towards her, hooking his hands beneath her elbows and drawing her towards him. “I’m finding it very fun.” He grinned just before leaning down to kiss her.

It was everything a first kiss should be. Should have been. Tauriel decided not to count that farewell kiss she had given him in his first life. She kissed Kíli back, clinging to him, never wanting to let him go again.

It was a long time before they broke apart, gasping for breath. He grinned in that rakish manner he always sported and she blushed in response. “Bema, but it’s good to be near you again.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She would have to get used to him being taller than her.

“You don’t curse like a dwarf.”

“True, but I still kiss like one.” He bent to show her again. 

Many minutes later they paused, needing another moment to return to their senses. Tauriel glanced upwards to thank the Valar for sending him back to her.

Instead she gasped. “Kíli look!” He turned to where she pointed.

While they had been lost in each other, the moon had risen in the sky. Golden orange all over with shadows of deeper red, the moon was poised several inches above the highest peak of the mountain range.

They watched it rise for a long time, holding each other in their arms. The moon’s brilliant orange faded to a muted yellow the higher it climbed into the sky. Nearly two hours later they finally broke their gaze from it, glancing at each other.

“I’m glad I got to share this with you.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Have you really not seen a fire moon in forty years?”

“No I had not,” Tauriel shook her head looking up at him. “And if I never see it again for another forty years I will not care because this one is the most important one.”

He laughed happily, her laughter joining his a moment later. “I do love you.” He captured her lips in a quick kiss.

_“Le melin Kíli.”_ Tauriel was only too happy to return the sentiment and the kiss.

He drew back to gaze down at her with those beautiful, adoring brown eyes. A moment later he frowned at her. “Tauriel you’re slipping.”

She frowned at him, not understanding.

Unable to keep up a charade for too long, Kíli grinned. “Before dinner, I offered to let you search me and you still haven’t...I could have anything down my trousers!”

(The End)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - This was put together in honor of Kílielmonth on Tumblr. I posted a head cannon about my favorite hobbitship Kíliel. An AU where Kíli died, but was reborn as a man instead of a dwarf. Don’t get me wrong - I love my dwarves and am currently working on a different fanfiction where Kíli is a dwarf. But, this idea for an AU stuck with me and I decided to write it just for fun. This is strictly a one-shot; meant to stretch my writing skills, so do not expect any sequels. Thank you for taking the time to read this story and please review if you enjoyed it in any manner whatsoever.


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